


The Noble Bachelor

by Yellowdork



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:42:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellowdork/pseuds/Yellowdork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock and John come back from a case they stumble upon a rather (un)pleasant surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The adventure of the Yellow Face

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a short story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle himself.

It had been a reasonably easy case Sherlock granted to take. He had been suffering from boredom and arse-ish behaviour due to the lack of one for quite some time now, so I was ever so pleased Mr Munro had stopped by. We were out at the time, but the man had left his cigarette case behind. To which the detective deduced the owner was rather chaotic, mainly because he had forgotten his property; he highly valued it, because it seemed often polished and lacked the scratches one of these containers usually would hold from the regular usage (because he was a heavy smoker, "Look at those hinges."); plus he was muscular and left handed.

Not that these deductions were germaine to the case. But Sherlock was bored and ever the show off, so he insisted on telling me anyway. When Mr Grant Munro returned to Baker Street he told us the story of his wife's lies: Effie Munro had been married to an American man before him, but he and their daughter had both passed away after a lethal car accident.

Their marriage had been perfectly normal, until the woman had asked for a small amount of money and begged him not to ask any questions. Two months later, he had caught her snooping around one of the cottages close to theirs in Norbury, and he decided to take a look through the window and saw a strange, short, yellow-faced fellow in the cosy and well decorated living room that even contained a picture of his Effie above the fire place.

So When Sherlock and I went to Norbury to help the man out, after much consideration and pushing from my side ("It's no higher than a six!"). But finally he figured there had to be more to this than just philandery. We found the yellow-faced man after about a week. We didn't want to break in. But when we finally did, to my horror, Sherlock pinned the small person to the wall and had lifted his hand to his neck. I stepped forward to interfere, but bounced back in horror when I saw Sherlock peeling the yellow-ish skin off his skull. Only to find out 'he' was sporting an incredibly vivid mask, revealing a young girl.

Turned out it was Effie's daughter, awakened from the coma she had been in. Effie had left her out of grief and anguish, depressed after losing her husband and quite sure she would lose Lucy too. Afraid Grant wouldn't accept the girl into their home she had kept Lucy's existence hidden. Desperate to see the child again, Effie used the money to bring her and her nurse over to England and bought the cottage for them.

We were both touched by Munro's response. When he finally did answer, it was one of which I love to think. He lifted the little child, kissed her, and then, still carrying her, he held his other hand out to his wife and turned towards the door.

Sherlock turned to me and told me:  
"John, if you ever notice that I'm getting a little overconfident in my powers, or giving less pains to a case than it deserves, whisper 'Norbury' in my ear, and I will make sure I change it."

* * *

  
"What's this?" I held up the envelope Sherlock had shamelessly stepped over on his way back into the flat, letting me carry the suitcase we had brought to Norbury.

"Harry's wedding inventation." Came the curt response from his position on the sofa.

I frowned and opened it with a clumsy hand, cursing colourfully as that was indeed what it was. "I knew I forgot something! We spent way too long in Norbury!"

I didn't exactly now why, probably to please them, but I had told my family weeks before I had had a steady lover for a few months, and they were eager to meet her. Only there was no her. There hadn't been a her for quite some time now, not after the little slip me and Sherlock had shared after a rather exciting case. It had been the adrenaline, I knew that. But we kissed. Brief and heated, and then never spoke of it again.

Speaking of the devil, my phone rang and it was said sister who called. The conversation was brief, and I was quite sure she knew I was lying. But somehow it rolled from my tongue.

“So are you bringing your girlfriend?” Harry asked.

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“What's she called again?”

“Uh.. She's uh.. His name.. is Sherlock.”


	2. The Boscombe Valley Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock drags John on another case and changes his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on another short story of Doyle!

“You think we'll be back in time before the wedding?” I glanced out of the fogged up window and then back at Sherlock.  
  
“You will be, yes. I'm not coming with you.”  
  
I sighed and shook my head, not eager to get into it at this point. Sherlock had been extremely adamant to Alice. I knew he would take the case. A boy suspected of murdering his own father. At least an eight.  
  
Alice told us James went on a hunt with Australian Charles McCarthey, his father, and was drifted away from him during it. He heard him calling out the word “Cooee.” Utterly annoyed, his deer having fled from the call, and he wasn't even sure it was a word, he went to look for his father who he then found near Boscombe Pool. They argued.  
  
Alice, the landowner's daughter, had seen them argue and had run back to her mother to tell her what she had happened. When they returned they found James holding his father's dead body. Of course the dauntingly idiotic towns people suspected James to have killed his father after two witnesses saw James following his father into the woods with a gun, and later the arguement. 

The young woman believed James innocent so they came to us. Sherlock pushed it off with a domestic murder, but the mediocrity of the last cases had gotten to him and I knew he was eager to take this case. So of course eventually he did.  
  
So here we were. A week before the wedding where people thought Sherlock was his partner. He had to find out a way of dragging him along. Sherlock was questioning James about the fight he had had with his father by the pool, but he was letting nothing go. The only new information he gave us was that his father's last word was 'rat', whatever that meant, and that he stormed off after the fight, and only went back when he heard his father cry out.

  
When James went back home, Alice stayed and told us she believed that she was the subject of the argument between James and his father, for Charles had asked James to marry her but James refused, he told Sherlock it was because he was afraid of John Turner, Alice's father.

“Again?” I asked with a scowl when Sherlock told me he needed to see James. “He's as stubborn as you are. He's not going to let anything else go.”  
  
“Wrong.” The detective just said. So I trailed after him, annoyed and curious.  


* * *

  
“Your wife. She's married.”

James gazed at him with a sheepish expression, I looked up from my laptop, and so he continued.  
  
“You got married to a barmaid, so you couldn't get married to Alice, even though you're in love with her. But she's married, therefore your marriage is invalid.” Sherlock scowled when the man grinned and jumped up, fleding out of the room. “Not good?” The man asked with a frown.  
  
“No, I suppose that was actually.. A good thing.” I told him, equally confused, but smiled at him.  
  
Sherlock's expression was one I would never forget. He looked at me, his facade soft and ind. But I only got to appreciate it for a few seconds.

“John!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“No, John Turner! Alice's father! He murdered Charles!”  
I stared at him and cocked my head, “I don't..-” Sherlock was like a magician. A magician who explained his tricks. You'd love them, but you wouldn't understand it. However much one would hate Sherlock Holmes, you'd hate him even more if he did his trick and then not tell you how he did it. But luckily he did.  
  
“Cooee! It's an Australian cry for 'rat'.”  
  
“His last words.. But..-”  
  
“No, the last syllable of his last word. Ballarat!”  
  
“Ballarat.” I repeated, typing in the word on my laptop that was still open in front of me. “It's a.. Place in Australia.. Charles was meeting another Australian by the pool then?”  
  
“No, no, no. The gang, John. John Turner was a member of the Ballarat Gang. So was Charles. They robbed a bank and fled to England.”  
  
I typed this in too, reading about the group of runaway convicts. “So.. Charles knew about this and John killed him?”  
  
“Yes.. Well, no. He didn't want his daughter to get married to James.”  
  
I gave him an odd look and cocked a questioning eyebrow.  
  
“John was eager to better his life. He bought the land here, got married, and then Alice was born. John met Charles again by chance because he moved here too, and Charles threatened to blackmail him. So John gave Charles Hatherly Farm and money, like he wanted. This wasn't enough, and Charles wanted Alice to marry his on. John likes James, he couldn't let Charles to eventual control over his family's finances through Alice, and resisted the union. After much pressure, John agreed to meet Charles secretly at the Pool. Seeing Charles and James there arguing, John waited for James to leave. Then he killed Charles to get his freedom back and spare his daughter. James heard his father's death cry and returned, but John was able to hide in the woods.”  


“You got all that from 'rat'?” I asked, flabbergasted, but Sherlock had already fled from the room. I grinned.  
  


* * *

"Fine."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Fine. I'll come." Sherlock mumbled from the sofa. We had returned earlier that morning, since the case was solved and John was arrested.  
  
"The.. Wedding?"   
  
I didn't ask why he changed his mind. I just thanked him.


End file.
